


kiss your tongue, strike a match

by romanlunch (admlynch)



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Anal Sex, Car Sex, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Topping from the Bottom, except? mild angst, listen i had a lot of things i wanted to work into one fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 08:58:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11158536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/admlynch/pseuds/romanlunch
Summary: Ronan wanted to say I love you, but he swallowed it down and told Adam, “I think I dreamt this before.” instead. Either one was true.Adam slowed, pulling away just enough to make conversation, running his hand over Ronan’s scalp, dragging his fingertips through the short hair. Ronan arched his neck into the touch. “Before or after us?”Us. Like it was that simple, like they were normal eighteen year olds. Like Ronan and Adam were just boyfriends, not the magician and the greywaren, not tangled up with the heedless magic of the ley line.Adam’s hand cupped Ronan’s face now, his thumb just over Ronan’s lips, and Ronan couldn’t help himself. He took Adam’s thumb into his mouth with his teeth, gently, and tasted the memory of his own blood. He sucked on it long enough to see Adam’s eyes darken, before pulling off to tell him: “I don’t know. Before, probably.”---or the one where ronan has some bad dreams and goes for a drive to clear his head. adam tags along. car sex ensues.





	kiss your tongue, strike a match

**Author's Note:**

> the title of this fic comes from 1977 by years and years. i wanted to write a fic in ronan's pov, involving adam sucking on ronan's fingers, and also car sex. this is what happened! hope it's good. this fic is unbetad so any mistakes are my own. i wrote/posted the last 1000 words at around two in the morning so? bear with me. thanks! hope you enjoy.

The pulse of the bass was eating Ronan’s chest even as he drove, wringing him tighter and tighter. Three nights in a row, he’d had three dreams of Adam, three nightmares- and brought nothing back, by some grace of God. He never explained when he woke up, and Adam never asked-  just pressed cool fingers to clammy skin and coaxed him back to rest, if not sleep. Usually, this worked. Usually, he slept through the night and woke up early to feed the cows, let them out into the pasture, and come back to bed after- smelling slightly like sweat and animals and dirt. Adam always kicked him out and made him take a shower. Sometimes he came with Ronan to the shower

 Tonight, there would be no going back to sleep. Tonight, Ronan drove and Adam burned in his dreams, burned in the passenger seat beside him, watching Ronan like a bomb that was about to go off, and maybe he was. Maybe Ronan was the fuse and Adam was the match. Maybe he was the explosion. Maybe they were both the ashes. Probably, Ronan was none of these things. Probably, he was just a boy tired of seeing all his fears laid out for him crystal-clear in his mind. Played over and over again on a masochistic loop each time he closed his eyes, whispering _this is what you deserve._ But someone had told him he was a bomb, once, and sometimes he believed it.

Ronan kept driving. The music kept playing. It was a CD he’d made months and months ago- the beat gritty, hungry, _dark._ He could feel it buzzing through his chest like a raucous heartbeat. He was in love with the way it made him feel, here, at night on two empty lanes, street lights looming overhead and casting the BMW in their sickly, white glow. He loved that he was speeding, but mostly he loved that he wasn’t alone in the car, and he wasn’t looking for trouble. He was just looking to escape.

There was a traffic light ahead, and it had turned red, but Ronan blew through it. Something thrilled inside him. The streets were empty, empty, empty. He felt a light touch on his wrist, searching. This was Adam. This was a warning. He hadn’t even looked at the clock when he threw the covers off himself, that night, when Adam woke up beside him and followed him to the car. They were barely even dressed- Ronan wore Adam’s shirt and a pair of faded sweat pants, Adam had pulled a pair of jeans from the floor that could’ve been his, or could’ve been Ronan’s before Niall died. The tank top he wore was definitely Ronan’s, though. It could be midnight. It could be 3am, and Ronan only cared that the streets were deserted.

Adam touched his wrist again, this time it was firmer, a thumb pressed to his pulse point telling him to slow down. Ronan slowed down, but his heart raced an instant faster with Adam’s touch, however small. He said: “If you were just going to babysit, you didn’t have to come with me.”

And this was cruel, because he knew that Adam wouldn’t leave him after a nightmare, because he pushed the people he cared about away, because Adam was leaving. This knowledge sliced him open like a butcher's knife, as he remembered again. He couldn’t stop remembering, picking at it like a scab until the wound bled.  

Cooly, Adam replied: “I came because I wanted to.” Ronan could just hear him over the gritty music and the sound of the summer air screaming through cracked windows. He felt himself crumpling. He risked a glance at Adam, for just a moment even though he was driving. Adam was watching him, cheek pressed against the leather headrest, hair still messy from sleep. Ronan felt suddenly guilty for waking him, and guilty for hurting him because he was afraid. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure he knew how to stop hurting the people he loved.

Ronan slowed down further- they were approaching the speed limit now- and a part of him wanted to pull over, wanted to stop and tell Adam how afraid he was, how much he loved him and how really, that was why he was afraid. Instead, he kept driving, kept himself anchored to the sensation of Adam’s fingertips, drumming along to something on his wrist. Ronan couldn’t tell if it was his heartbeat, or the music. It was a miniscule gesture, a miniature touch, but it was enough to thoroughly distract Ronan.

He could still feel the infectious beating of the music, physically feel it rattling through his spine and his ribcage. Adam trailed a finger up Ronan’s forearm, and he nearly shivered, though it was not cold. Ronan was wound tight enough, was desperate and hungry enough, that he felt the sensation of it amplified. Adam’s nail dragged over a scab from the barbed wire in the far pasture, and caught on the skin there. It hurt. He felt a small and heady rush. The air inside of the car suddenly felt thick and warm, even with the windows cracked open. Maybe it was _because_ the windows were cracked open- Virginia summer was always hotter than you could possibly remember, a wet sticky heat that sent you scrambling back into the air conditioning after ten minutes outside, wondering why you ever looked forward to June.

Ronan said: “Are you trying to pick that thing off?” He was mildly embarrassed to notice that his voice was rough. He couldn’t tell if it was because they hadn’t been talking, or because he was obviously affected by the boy sitting in the passenger seat.

Adam’s fingers stilled against his skin, gone tacky in the humidity. “I wasn’t really thinking about it.”

Again, Ronan wanted to pull over- so he could pick the scab off himself, so he could lean over the center console to kiss Adam, so he could dissolve his thoughts into the consuming melody of electronica pumping through the speakers. The streets were still empty, but they were reaching the edge of town, where the streetlights became few and far between, while the trees stretched long, thin branches high above the road like searching fingers in the dark.

“You can,” Ronan said, swallowing. “Might as well get it over with.”  

Adam ripped off his scab. It hurt about as much as Ronan expected it to, which was to say barely at all, with the bite of a small and terrible adrenaline rush egging him on. He felt a tiny droplet of blood welling on the insignificant wound, and felt Adam wipe it away with the swift press of an elegant finger. He was hypersensitive, hyper aware of their closeness, and again, he looked away from the road to look at Adam.

He had Ronan’s shirt on his back, Ronan’s blood on his fingertips, and Ronan’s heart in his hands. Suddenly, he couldn’t stand it. Ronan pulled over to the side of the road, put the car in park, and turned in his seat so he was facing Adam.

Adam blinked at him, the only indicator that he was surprised by their stop. He looked soft and sleep-mussed even in the dark interior of the BMW, even as the grimy music played on. He was so much more than Ronan thought he could ever have, and it made him ache somewhere in his chest or his bones, that Adam was sitting right here with him. Adam asked: “Does it hurt?”

“Yes.” Ronan said, but he wasn’t talking about the scab. _All the time._

He unbuckled his seatbelt, and leaned across the center console to kiss Adam. The angle was awkward but Ronan was burning, and he made it work despite the plastic barrier between them. Adam seemed only momentarily surprised by this, a shocked breath escaping between his lips before he responded with equal fervor, unbuckling his own seatbelt, trying to get closer. Ronan moved his hand to the back of Adam’s neck, pulling him in. His palm was warm, and stuck against the smoothness of Adam’s neck, his thumb tracing the delicate skin under his jaw. He felt a pulse racing under Adam’s skin, felt infinitely privileged to be the one to feel his life in this way.

Ronan wanted to say _I love you_ , but he swallowed it down and told Adam, “I think I dreamt this before.” instead. Either one was true.

Adam slowed, pulling away just enough to make conversation, running his hand over Ronan’s scalp, dragging his fingertips through the short hair. Ronan arched his neck into the touch. “Before or after us?”

 _Us._ Like it was that simple, like they were normal eighteen year olds. Like Ronan and Adam were just boyfriends, not the magician and the greywaren, not tangled up with the heedless magic of the ley line.

Adam’s hand cupped Ronan’s face now, his thumb just over Ronan’s lips, and Ronan couldn’t help himself. He took Adam’s thumb into his mouth with his teeth, gently, and tasted the memory of his own blood. He sucked on it long enough to see Adam’s eyes darken, before pulling off to tell him: “I don’t know. Before, probably.”

Adam watched him, and Ronan had seen him hungry before, but now he was starving. He shivered at the implicit look in Adam’s eyes, the plain wanting of it. Adam dragged his thumb over Ronan’s bottom lip, leaned over, and kissed him. Their mouths glided together, wet and hot. He felt dizzy. He felt delirious. He felt the music swallowing his chest and rattling in his mouth when Adam trapped Ronan’s lower lip between both of his, and sucked gently.

A moan caught in Ronan’s throat, trapped, and suddenly, Ronan hated the console between them. He kissed Adam harder, put his other hand on Adam’s shoulder, tried to press in closer. His hips knocked uselessly against the plastic console. He felt Adam’s tongue tracing the seam of their mouths, then the shape of his teeth inside his mouth and it wasn’t really kissing anymore, it was something different. Ronan sucked on Adam’s tongue. Adam slipped a finger in through a hole in Ronan’s shirt- which was really Adam’s shirt- and felt at the skin on Ronan’s breastbone. Goosebumps rose on his chest.

Ronan pulled away from the kiss, the un-sticking of their lips made a slick sound and he heaved for breath. He looked at Adam, his eyes intense and dark blue in the low lighting of the car’s interior. Ronan said: “Come over here.”

Adam considered this, his head tilted like it was a hard decision. Ronan reached for Adam’s wrist, felt the thick pulse of his heartbeat that confirmed that he was just as affected as Ronan. The space between them ached.

Ronan swallowed thickly. “Don’t make me ask for it.”

“You already did.” Adam replied, and climbed over the console onto Ronan’s seat.

One minute they were separated, and the next Adam was sitting in his lap. He could feel the heat of Adam’s skin through two layers of fabric, the back of his thigh pressed against Ronan’s. Ronan reached down to the side, pressing a button to push the seat back so Adam had more room, but possibly, he didn’t need it. Adam kissed Ronan again, but it was the kind of kissing that wasn’t really kissing- it was kissing to prove a point. Kissing to make Ronan hard. Adam got a hand under Ronan’s shirt, the other on his shoulder, pressing him back into the leather seat. He bit Ronan’s lip- gentle, careful not to draw blood- but it hurt enough to make him gasp into Adam’s mouth.

Apparently, this was the desired effect. Adam pulled away, pressed his thumb to Ronan’s swollen lower lip again, dragged it down until Ronan could feel his finger on the inside of his lip. Ronan felt high. He felt like he’d just raced down the interstate at ninety miles per hour. Adam’s palm was pressed into his cheek and Ronan closed his eyes, leaning further into his hand. He felt like he was melting into the seat, and somehow the music sounded like it was playing from far away. He was blind when Adam took his hand, pressed a kiss to the tender skin on the inside of his wrist, and took Ronan’s fingers in his mouth.

Instantly, he felt hot. All the blood in his body rushed in from his limbs and dropped below his stomach. He opened his eyes, focus narrowing to Adam’s mouth on his hand. He felt the heat of it like he was being touched somewhere else. His pulse was heavy in his veins, his desire thickening as Adam’s tongue slipped between his index and middle finger. Adam looked at him, pretty and blue-eyed, lips wrapped around his fingers. A weak, breathy sound slipped from Ronan’s lips and he flushed. Teeth scraped at his knuckle. Ronan had spent a lot of time thinking of doing this to Adam, but he’d never considered Adam doing it to him. It was as if he’d reached inside Ronan’s pants and touched him.

Even with his mouth occupied, Adam managed to multi task. He ground his hips down into Ronan, jerking another breathy sound from his mouth. Ronan’s breathing was heavy now, broken, unmeasured breaths as Adam took him apart. He was hard. He rolled his hips up to meet Adam, just as Adam went down again. Their hips crashed against each other, and Ronan felt their cocks rubbing together through the fabric of their clothing. He arched up, seeking friction, rutting against Adam’s hipbone. He cursed under his breath.

Adam released Ronan’s fingers from his mouth, leaning down to kiss Ronan, chests, hips, thighs flush together. A moan died in Ronan’s throat, muffled by their mouths pressed together. He had Adam’s spit on his fingers and he didn’t know what to do about it, but he palmed at Adam’s erection through his jeans. Adam’s hips jumped, his breath stuttered over Ronan’s mouth, their bodies hot and aching. Adam pulled away from his mouth, reached into Ronan’s sweatpants, and grabbed his cock.

Ronan cursed again. “ _Fuck._ ” Adam pumped the length of him once, quick, and Ronan could feel the pleasure tingle up his spine. “God, Adam.” Adam swiped his thumb over the head of his cock, and Ronan threw his head back against the seat. Adam went faster, setting a rhythm that built up in Ronan like a thundercloud. His entire body felt hot, and he knew if he didn’t have a shirt on he’d be flushed all the way to his chest. The music was still throbbing in the background. He could feel Adam’s erection pressed against his hip. It was too close. He didn’t want to come yet. He pushed Adam’s hand off him, trying to regain a semblance of composure.

Breathless, he panted: “I’m not gonna come in my pants like a fifteen year old.”

“I bet I could make you.” Adam said, and he’d stopped touching Ronan’s cock, but he squeezed Ronan’s hips, hard. Without thinking, Ronan bucked into Adam’s groin, and again he felt the hardness of Adam against him. He bit back a moan, but Adam didn’t, and Ronan thought it was the best sound he’d ever heard in this car- better than his music, better than his engine roaring in a street race.

Adam leaned forward to leave hot, open mouthed kisses at his neck, as if Ronan needed any more stimulation. He found a spot on Ronan’s collarbone that he must’ve particularly liked, because he started worrying at it with his teeth.

“Fuck.” Ronan cursed again, and reached for Adam through his jeans. He felt a damp spot where his cock was leaking precome. “I want you to ride me.”

Adam stopped kissing him, but Ronan had felt him shiver when he said it. Adam was clearly interested in this proposition.

“In this car?” Adam sounded out of breath when he spoke, but he wasn’t nearly as wrecked as Ronan. In answer, Ronan squeezed the thickness of Adam through the denim, and Adam’s hips stuttered forwards.

Ronan replied. “In this car.”

“God.”Adam gripped Ronan’s hips again, ground himself down a little more on Ronan’s thigh. “Do you have lube? Condoms?”

“In the glovebox.” Ronan leaned forward to leave a kiss on Adam’s shoulder, but Adam was already turning away to dig through the glove box. When he turned back, he had both, and leaned forward to kiss Ronan briefly.

“So, why do you keep lube in your car?”

Ronan flushed, squirmed a little under Adam and said. “I don’t know. In case you ran out at St.Agnes, or something.”

“Mhmm.” Adam teased. “Likely story. I knew you had car fantasies.”

Ronan’s face felt hot. “Shut up.”

Adam smiled, but he started kissing Ronan’s neck again, finally shucking off Ronan’s sweatpants and tented boxers. Ronan always felt a little exposed in these moments, when he was the one with less clothing, but he reached for the button on Adam’s jeans, and got the other boy out of his pants. They were both naked from the waist down, parked on the side of the road, night pressing in dark against the windows of the car, electronica thumping from the speakers.

Ronan reached for the lube, but Adam batted his hand away. “Stop. I’m doing it myself.”

“Why?” Ronan watched as Adam slicked up his fingers, watched as he slowly pressed one inside himself. Adam’s face didn’t change, but Ronan heard him inhale, sharp, as he went in and out. Ronan felt his own breath catch in his throat, felt his arousal like it was palpable.

Between breaths Adam replied: “I don’t want you to touch me until I tell you so.”

Ronan suddenly felt hotter. He had trouble admitting it, but he liked when Adam told him what to do, or told him what not to do. He had the intense urge to sit on his hands to keep from touching Adam, but instead he fisted them at his sides, and watched the other boy. Adam prepped himself thoroughly, adding one finger after another, slowly, but not so slow that Ronan’s erection flagged. It took a few minutes until he was ready, and by that time, both of them were anxious for it.

“Are you ready?” Adam asked. His breath was warm on Ronan’s skin, he hovered over Ronan’s hips, and Ronan licked his lips, anticipatory.

“Isn’t that my line?” Ronan hadn’t touched Adam, but he did now, a gentle squeeze to Adam’s hip saying yes, _I’m ready_ , yes, _I want this_.

Adam got the message. He lined himself up, and slid down onto Ronan. They’d done this before, a few times, so Ronan had a passing sense of familiarity in the act, but they’d never done it like this. Never in his car, never with Adam’s hands pressing him back into the seat, never Adam fucking himself on Ronan’s cock. Adam set a murderous pace, fast and hard, his fingers gripping tightly to Ronan’s shoulders. It knocked the breath out of both of them, left Ronan gasping each time Adam came down. Ronan thrust up, tried to match the pace, watched the way it effected Adam. The other boy had his eyes shut, but not tightly, his lashes fluttering, his breath catching and catching and catching.

Despite this all, Ronan had the thorough impression that Adam was the one driving the situation. He ground himself down on Ronan, and Ronan threw his head back against the seat, bit his lip to keep from moaning.

Adam’s voice was breathless. “Let me hear you.”

“Fuck.” Ronan cursed but it came out in a whine. Adam shifted, angling his hips differently, and Ronan cursed again, almost bit his hand to silence himself, and instead reached to work at Adam’s cock. “ _Adam._ ”

Adam moaned, small, short, beautiful, and told Ronan: “I want you to come first.”

Ronan felt undone, dizzy, like Adam was the axis his world spun around, like he was anchored here to this moment, this feeling. He pumped the length of Adam until he was as wrecked as Ronan was. The pleasure bloomed, swelled, grew larger and closer as Adam came down on him, over and over again, unrelenting despite Ronan’s hand on his cock. Ronan felt his thighs shaking, grabbed onto Adam’s waist with his free hand, to steady himself. He turned his head into the car seat headrest, and a weak sound escaped through gritted teeth.

“Adam, I’m-” He panted. Adam cupped his face in a hand, stroked a thumb across Ronan’s cheek.

His voice was rough. “Come on, Ronan.”

Ronan felt white hot. He was so close- moments, seconds away. Adam leaned forward to kiss a spot on Ronan’s neck, and rolled his hips down at the same time. Ronan almost sobbed from it, his head falling forward into Adam’s shoulder as he came, the force of it ripping through him like a blow.

He couldn’t stay quiet, after, oversensitized as Adam chased the edge of his own relief, still fucking himself on Ronan. His broken whimpers mixed with Adam’s pants, the action of it made painful, then blissful, then painful, then overwhelming. He was still jerking Adam, and felt more than heard the gasp that meant he was about to finish. Ronan swiped his thumb over the slit of Adam’s cock, and then Adam came, spilling white over Ronan’s hand, and onto his shirt. Adam’s shirt. The one Ronan had worn to bed. He almost felt guilty for the mess, but at least it wasn’t his come.

They sat there a moment, together, breathing, breathing, breathing as Ronan’s music pulsed through the stereo. Adam climbed off of Ronan. Ronan pulled off his condom, tied it, and discarded it in an empty, plastic grocery bag that was lying in the backseat. Adam deposited the mostly full box of condoms and the mostly full bottle of lube back in the glove box. Ronan took off Adam’s shirt, folded it, even though it had come on it, and placed it slightly more respectfully in the backseat. He pulled up his abandoned boxers and sweatpants.

Adam watched this and said: “Sorry for-” He gestured vaguely to the shirt, and Ronan shrugged.

“It’s yours.”

Adam leaned over to kiss him, soft, just the barest press of their mouths together. He’d discarded his jeans, and was now only sporting a pair of boxers and Ronan’s muscle tee. Both of these items were worse for wear than they’d been upon leaving the house, stained with sweat and sex, but Adam looked gorgeous anyways. He always did.

Adam broke the kiss and told Ronan: “I was going to give it to you, when I left. You’re always wearing that thing to bed.”

Ronan didn’t know that Adam had noticed. He looked down, avoiding Adam’s earnest blue eyes, instead fidgeting with his wristbands. His cheeks flushed. “I like to wear it when you’re at St. Agnes.”

“I know.” Adam replied. “It always smells like you when I come home.” _Home._ This meant The Barns. This meant Ronan. This meant June nights on the front porch watching fireflies. This meant eating peaches so ripe the juice dripped down their chins until they kissed it away. This meant summer. This meant only a month more in idyll. Adam went on. “You know I’m going to come back, right?”

Ronan knew this with his head, but his heart chose to betray him in every moment. Every time Adam went to the bookstore for another book from his summer reading list, every time he debated flying versus driving with Ronan, he felt the stab like he was already farther away.

Ronan nodded his head yes in answer to Adam’s question, took his hand, and kissed his knuckles for a brief moment. He didn’t know how to explain that he knew, he _knew_ Adam was coming back because Adam told him so, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it all the time. He didn’t know if he deserved Adam coming back to him.

Ronan said. “Let’s go back to the house.”

Adam nodded in agreement, looked at the clock on Ronan’s dash. It was early morning or late at night, depending on who you asked. He said: “I need a shower.”

Ronan probably needed a shower too, but he didn’t say anything, just shifted the car out of park, put his foot on the gas, and started the drive home. Adam held Ronan’s wrist over the gearshift, played with his fingers. It wasn’t quite holding hands but it was close. His CD was still playing, and the pulse of the bass was eating Ronan’s chest, even as he drove.


End file.
